


Heliotrope

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dark, M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through the dragon sickness, a ray of truth gives Fíli what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heliotrope

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Thorin is overcome with gold lust, but this time, it doesn't stop at what he finds in Smaug's heap of precious things, not even at the Arkenstone; he has to have the most precious thing Erebor has to offer. Cue Thorin fucking Fili on the gold, and Fili loving every second of it. Bonus points for Thorin talking to Fili the whole time, telling him how much he always wanted him, the whole shebang. Double bonus points for Fili gasping out how he has wanted Thorin the whole time, ever since he can remember, and that being what pushes Thorin over the edge.” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=25025397#t25025397).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sometimes, Thorin looks like a different man all together, and it seems like nothing Fíli can say will sway him. Others, Thorin will look around at him, and the glimmer of the great dwarf Thorin used to be shines through his eyes, and it gives Fíli a string of hope. He latches onto that, is tender with his words—perhaps they don’t _owe_ Lake-town or Bard or the Elfking they escaped from—but perhaps they can still offer _something_ in good faith. Fíli tries to appeal to Thorin’s merciful side, praying it’s still there, even though Dwalin and Balin and so many of them have already tried and failed. 

But then Fíli mentions Kíli, who’s afraid—they all are—and Thorin turns, regarding him across the sea of gold. Fíli’s breath hitches, and he pauses in his pleas, rephrasing gently, “We _miss_ you, uncle.”

Thorin moves towards him. Thorin wades through the gold like the dragon whose stench still permeates the air, his thick robe rippling over the hills of jewels. He’s broader, larger than he’s ever been, dressed in fresh clothes, armour, and heavy furs, topped with jewelry, rings, and his rightful crown. He looks magnificent, but to Fíli, he always did. 

He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Fíli, standing in the entrance, on one of the few clear patches of stone flooring below, the mountains of treasure rising up all around them. Fíli thinks this a good thing, at first: Thorin’s finally _listening_. But then his hand comes up to cup the side of Fíli’s face, and he isn’t so sure. Comprehension isn’t in Thorin’s eyes. He’s far away, contemplating something else. Fíli doesn’t bother to continue his efforts at reason. Yet he’s too touched-starved to pull away. It’s been too long since his beloved uncle held him. He never could resist Thorin’s hand. 

The way Thorin touches him now isn’t quite how it’s ever been. It’s more of a caress: small, soft strokes down the scruff of his jaw, fingers curling to brush down his golden beard. They slowly trace up the side of his lips, then latch around one of the braids of his mustache, trailing back down and thumbing the end. Fíli’s breath is still, not wanting to break the magic. In these past few days, Thorin has sometimes seemed a tyrant, but here he’s a loving king again, more intimate than Fíli’s dared to dream. 

As Thorin traces back up Fíli’s cheek, he threads his thick fingers into Fíli’s hair. His grip isn’t firm, though Fíli gets the distinct impression that it would close into a fist if he tried to pull away. He never would. It’s too close to his own feelings, and he averts his eyes to not betray himself, even though Thorin’s handsome face is so difficult to look away from. 

“I would never do anything to hurt you or Kíli,” Thorin murmurs, quiet but powerful. “You must believe that.”

Fíli almost gulps. Even in the partial madness this gold’s brought on, Fíli’s never doubted that. He replies just as quietly, “I know.”

Thorin takes another step closer. There’s no room for it, and his boots become wedged on either side of Fíli’s, his breath so near that the warmth of it tickles Fíli’s face. Between the proximity and the touch, it’s too much for him. He might try to turn away, if the hand weren’t still in his hair. Thorin growls reverently, “You’re both very, very precious to me. I love you with all my heart.” A tremor runs through Fíli’s body. It isn’t like Thorin to come out and say it, although they’ve always known. It’s so sincere and all consuming. 

Fíli mumbles, “We love you too.” And always have. Fíli in a deeper way than Thorin could ever know. Thorin’s hand snakes back down his chin. 

Thorin’s fingers close around it, and he tilts Fíli’s face to look at him. Locking their eyes, Thorin asks, “Do you?”

Confused, Fíli repeats without hesitation, “Yes.”

“I love you both,” Thorin insists, and now his other hand is reaching for Fíli’s waist, taking hold of his belt and keeping him close, even though Fíli had no intention of leaving. Thorin’s head dips, his eyes looking up beneath his brow in that commanding way of his, his voice dipping into a near-growl. “But my love for you is different than for your brother.”

Fíli doesn’t understand. His eyebrows knit together, searching Thorin’s burning gaze—it _can’t_ be what he wants it to—and he licks his lips to ask, “What does that mean?”

Thorin turns him easily. Fíli’s herded around, and he goes without question. He’s backed up several steps, until his feet hit the hill of gold, and then Thorin is bearing down on him. Fíli lets himself fall; he has Thorin’s hands protecting him. He’s laid down in it, at an angle and just hidden from the entrance, though Fíli was clear for no one else to come until he’d finished trying. Thorin climbs easily atop him, on all fours; nearly blocking out the light of the torches. The thousands of expensive surfaces below reflect that light back, and Thorin’s cast in a golden outline, warmer than ever. 

He’s so painfully handsome. And he’s strong and _fierce_ , looking down at Fíli like nothing could ever tear him away. Fíli’s breathless. 

“I have all of this gold,” Thorin rumbles, his voice almost a purr, alluring as it always is. “And still the greatest treasure of all alludes me.”

Fíli murmurs, “What is that?”

Thorin answers, “ _You_ ,” and then he’s leaning down in the same moment. His fingers slide through Fíli’s hair, his face tilting so their noses slip side by side, his mouth ghosting over Fíli’s. Fíli opens his to gasp, and Thorin’s tongue slips right inside. It isn’t a chaste, familial peck—it’s a hungry, passionate kiss that consumes him right away. Thorin’s mouth closes against his, and Fíli’s follows, opening again as Thorin bids, his tongue curling around Fíli’s to trace all the contours of his mouth. It seems to go on and on, until Fíli can barely breathe, and then it’s over too soon, Thorin pulling back enough to press their hard foreheads together. 

His dark hair cascades down Fíli’s vision, blocking out the rest of the world. A part of him is giddy, too blissful to talk—he’s wanted this for _so long_. But when he’s given air, memory of the sickness returns, and he forces himself to say, “Uncle, you don’t really want this.”

“I’ve wanted this for too long,” Thorin insists: a royal decree that closes Fíli’s mouth. “But coming on this quest and seeing you become not just a man, but a loyal, skilled warrior, is what pushed me over the edge. I wanted you _desperately_.”

Fíli mumbles, “That can’t be right.” It can’t. His face knits together again in confusion, in worry, and Thorin dips to peck between his brows, like trying to kiss the stress away. Thorin doesn’t seem like a madman anymore, but his words are too perfect to be beyond that influence. Fíli wants to protest, but his traitorous mouth admits, “I’ve always wanted you too.”

“Good,” Thorin hisses, “You will be mine, then?”

It’s _wrong_. But Fíli could never lie to his uncle. He breathes, “I always was.”

He’s kissed again. It’s just as hard, just as fierce. His body wants to revel in it, but his mind reels with worry—what if it’s just the sickness? But Thorin sounds so _sincere_. His hands trace along Fíli’s sides, come to his chest and strip away his coat. Fíli understands the silent command, and he obeys—he arches off the bed of coins and wriggles out of the extra fabric. It goes sliding down the hill and leaves his back more vulnerable to the many jagged surfaces, but he’s a dwarf, a Durin, and thick-skinned. 

Thorin _feels_ sincere. There’s so much passion in the kisses that surely madness couldn’t feign. Perhaps it’s just lowered his inhibitions, made him able to say what he never could. Or maybe it’s made him realize that he’s a _king_ and he can _take what he wants_.

Fíli gives himself more than willingly. He gasps into Thorin’s mouth as his tunic’s ripped open, the threads pulled deftly aside. Thorin’s mouth descends down his chin, teeth biting fiercely into his beard, and Fíli arches back, whining and reaching to clutch at Thorin’s hair. Thorin dips lower, nosing down his throat and laving into his collarbone, down across his chest, broad and splattered with light hairs. Fíli would lift to have the tunic pulled over his head, but Thorin tears it apart and disposes of it like his coat, to leave Fíli lying shirtless in the coins. Thorin pulls back to look down at him, full of adoration. It makes Fíli’s heart constrict. 

“You are so beautiful,” Thorin sighs, eyeing every part of Fíli that he can, hands straying down to the hem of Fíli’s trousers. One hand stays there as he leans back down, breathing over Fíli’s lips, “My gorgeous heir.” He kisses Fíli again as he unlatches Fíli’s belt and tugs open the laces. The rest is a blur. Fíli can’t bring himself to pull away from Thorin’s mouth, so he takes kiss after kiss while Thorin climbs off of him, pushes his thighs up, spreads them around his uncle’s lap and pulls away the trousers. By the time Thorin stops, Fíli’s completely naked, wearing only the clasps in his hair that Thorin himself put at the end of Fíli’s braids. 

“Perfect,” Thorin purrs, his palms running warm down Fíli’s sides. They’ve been naked around one another before, having needed to on the road, but never like _this_. Thorin is still in all his armour and robes, and Fíli’s open and pulled against his lap, legs spread. One of Thorin’s hands trails down to cup between Fíli’s legs, pressing into his cock, already hard and beginning to leak—he’s wanted Thorin _so much_ ; this is a dream come true. Thorin kneads him and muses, “I’ve traveled this world over, and still you are the most handsome creature I have ever laid eyes on, my sister’s son.”

Fíli just moans. He knows many that would disagree, for Thorin is the most attractive of any dwarf of their Age, but he can’t form any coherent words with Thorin’s fingers around his cock. He can barely focus enough to see Thorin reach into his robes and extract a small bottle, clear with liquid sloshing inside. 

Fíli almost chuckles. It’s such a convenient thing to have. He doesn’t have to ask; Thorin growls, “I have eleven courtesans to choose from, though I would much prefer my beautiful nephew.”

Fíli can’t tell if he’s being serious or not but moans just in case, “Please, only take me.”

Thorin hisses, “I promise,” and pops the bottle open. 

Fíli lifts his hips without even being asked. He’s been taken before and taken others, mostly dwarves with black hair and short beards to remind him of his uncle, and they’ve all paled in comparison. Most of all are Thorin’s sharp eyes; they can never be replicated. He holds Fíli’s cock out of the way with one hand, gently cupping his tight balls, and runs the lube down his crack with the other one. It’s cold, and that gives Fíli a sharp intake of breath, but the rest of the room is stifling, particularly Thorin’s body. He can hardly believe it’s really happening—so fast, so soon—but then Thorin’s blunt fingers are rubbing at his hole, and it’s undeniable. “I wanted to take you so many times,” Thorin growls, covering Fíli’s gasp when the first thick finger pops inside. “But I hadn’t seen the way you looked at me. I was a fool.”

Fíli moans, wanting to disagree—Thorin’s a genius. Fíli’s always admired Thorin in every way possible, but there’s no room to articulate that with one fat finger pushing inside his tight hole. Thorin’s careful, and the lube eases the way, but he still feels mammoth, and it’s been a long time since Fíli’s had anything inside him like this. As Thorin gently adds a second digit, he muses, “I have clarity now. I see the devotion on your face. One of the others might betray me, but never my nephews. Never my _heir_ , my _Fíli_...”

Again, that isn’t right. None of their company would betray Thorin. But this isn’t about them, and Fíli can’t form the words to say so. Thorin scissors him apart on two hefty fingers, then pulls out and moves for his own belt. Fíli lifts up on his elbows, _staring_ at Thorin’s crotch. The minute the reddened head pops out, all of Fíli’s doubts fall away. Thorin’s cock is thick, veined, _massive_ , and Fíli licks his lips in looking at it. He doesn’t know what he’s ever done to be so lucky. Seeing his face, Thorin chuckles, “Does the sight of your uncle’s cock please you, my treasure?”

“Yes,” Fíli groans, spreading his legs all the wider across Thorin’s lap. Somehow, he manages to say, “But I think the feel of it would please me even more...”

Thorin chuckles, grinning fondly, and presses the swollen head between Fíli’s legs. Fíli has to tilt around so his own jutting cock doesn’t block the view. Thorin presses at him, gently at first, then gives a sudden thrust that shoves it inside, and Fíli’s head tosses back, gasping. 

Thorin’s over him a second later, on all fours again, face nuzzling down into the side of Fíli’s. His hips rock, pushing in just a little more, then drag out, then inside again. Bit by bit, he buries himself deeper inside Fíli’s convulsing channel. There’s a faint bit of pain, a stretch that fingers never could prepare for—Thorin’s too _huge_. But Thorin is careful, slow, and then his hips hit a new angle, stabbing a bundle of nerves that makes Fíli _scream_. A wave of pleasure washes out any pain, and Thorin adjusts to hit that angle again, then again, on every single thrust. He takes Fíli in fast, hard motions that grind Fíli into the coins. Fíli throws his arms back around Thorin’s shoulders, hanging on for dear life. He cries out on every thrust and whimpers every time it’s taken away. Thorin mouths at his jaw and hisses, “How beautiful you sound, my little love. You make the most delicious noises for your king...”

Fíli doesn’t try to be quiet. He’s obedient and lets scream after scream leave his lips. The sex itself would be enough—Thorin feels so _good_ inside him—but Thorin makes it better with every word. He descends to Fíli’s ear, hissing into it, “How brave you were, coming on this quest with me. How clever, how skilled. I am _proud_ , so proud, for everything you’ve done, but this is the way you please me most. You cannot know how much I’ve wanted you, my Fíli, how much I’ve longed to have you warm my bed and sit at my side...”

Fíli whines pitifully, “ _Uncle_ ,” but nothing else comes out; another thrust jars it away. He feels foolish for holding back so long—perhaps he should’ve presented himself to Thorin the minute he was sure of his feelings, instead of wasting so many years on purely platonic touches. A part of him feels guilty for stealing Thorin’s love away from Kíli, but the thought of sharing Thorin with anyone, even his beloved brother, shoots jealousy down his spine. He buries his face in Thorin’s hair and wraps his legs as tightly around Thorin’s waist as he can, trying to take Thorin as deeply inside as possible. 

Thorin’s fingers lock around his shaft, still slick. Fíli’s voice nearly breaks, and Thorin sets straight into pumping it, stroking and squeeze in time with every thrust. “You feel so good around me,” Thorin growls. “So tight and hot, clawing at me like you don’t want to let me go...”

“I don’t,” Fíli babbles into Thorin’s hair, gasping and whimpering, “I’ve wanted you too, Thorin; I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. I love you _so much_.”

That seems to be what pushes Thorin over the edge. He slams Fíli down all the harder, mouth opening to _roar_ , and his seed bursts inside Fíli’s body. Thorin fucks him right through it, pounding it all out. Fíli takes each pump in blissful delight, seeing stars even before his own orgasm hits. Thorin doesn’t stop pumping him, and before Thorin’s finished spilling into him, Fíli bursts across his own stomach, Thorin pointing it down to keep the spray away from his robes.

Fíli doesn’t mind. He covers his own chest with seed as he screams his relief, clinging desperately to Thorin. He’s fucked the whole time, and only once he’s down to dribbling the last remains does Thorin slow. When he’s finally finished, he doesn’t pull out, just rubs himself inside. 

Fíli’s own cock starts to flag. Soreness follows, but he doesn’t try to push Thorin off of him. Thorin gently pets his face and murmurs, “How precious you are to me.” Fíli dizzily manages to smile. 

Thorin blankets over him, crushes him, and Fíli holds on, at least knowing that whatever else comes, nothing can take this away from him.


End file.
